Nicolas stormed onto the balcony, boots pounding the marble floor. The air hit him like a slap—thick, tense, and strange. Down below, the palace courtyard teemed with Arcadians stumbling in like ghosts. Their clothes hung off their bodies, their faces pale and drained.
The sky was a smudged gray, too dark for this hour. It felt like night had fallen in the middle of the day.
“What the hell is going on?” Nicolas barked, gripping the stone railing, eyes darting across the crowd. Even the nobles looked shaken, their regal posture crumbled.
If he hadn’t been Alpha, he might’ve buckled too. Something was deeply wrong. The air smelled of dust and dread.
“My prince, help us!” a sentinel shouted, his spear clattering to the ground as he dropped to his knees.
“The rivers—they’re dry!” another
